


Sparks of Color

by LosttotheHoping



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Canon Typical Stupidity, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other, canon typical language, mentions of past rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 18:30:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20934800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LosttotheHoping/pseuds/LosttotheHoping
Summary: RvB snippets and drabbles. Just whatever I end up writing.





	Sparks of Color

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Characters and Red Vs. Blue do not belong to me, but to their Creators. I am responsible for creating the situation, and the storyline only. Please do not take and use or post elsewhere without my express permission. Thank you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Look, he's not going to say he loves Wash, but loving someone and needing them to be able to breathe are two entirely different things. Or; Wash takes a tumble off a cliff, Tucker has a panic attack, and Caboose is convinced that it will be a beautiful wedding.  
Word Count: 810

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Tucker's head. Enjoy!

Look, Verne's not going to say he _ loves _ Wash, but loving someone and needing them to be able to breathe are two entirely different things. Frankly, that's his story and he's sticking to it. None of this, "you're not gay, Lavernius, gays go to hell," nonsense that his father used to spout when he was younger. For the record, he's _ not _ gay, he was going through a phase, and the fact that he's constantly surrounded by big, buff men is entirely accidental and not at all by his choice. Also, Junior's conception doesn't count, because technically that was rape, and also by an alien. Everyone knows aliens don't have genders, obviously.

Anyway, he _ needs _ Wash, but that doesn't mean he loves him and that doesn't mean he's gay. Wash is singular, specific, it doesn't even count. There's only one of Wash, one in the whole universe, and that makes him a special case. Thus, Verne can circumvent the whole gay issue, because gender can't be assigned to a hulking, muscly, brooding creature occasionally in blue that has a particular penchant for throwing knives in such a way that the pit of Verne's stomach flip flops unnaturally.

He doesn't love him, but Wash just got shot in the _ throat _ and went tumbling right off the side of a cliff, and Verne isn't handling it so well. He's nowhere in sight, Verne checked himself, even after Caboose and Simmons both rushed to look for him and reported as much.

Verne can't breathe that well, his chest tight and throat a solid lump of a knot. Little sparkles of color keep dancing at the edge of his vision, even as he shoots the enemy, keeps shooting, focusing on the here, the now, and not letting himself think about anything else. Occasionally he shouts orders that most of his men completely ignore, and doesn't even have time to realize this is what Church must have felt like all the time.

In the end, it takes him a solid twenty seconds of looking for the last body before he clues into the fact that the battle is over. He drops his weapon and his knees buckle without his consent. Every breath is ragged and strained, he can't _ breathe _, God, Wash. He's gone, gone, gone. No more moments stolen in the night, talking in low voices while Wash gives him this smile like he sees and knows and understands all there is to Verne.

No more- Verne rips off his helmet, gasping with his hands digging into the sand- no more arguing about rotations, or early morning exercise routines. Wash won't - gasping for breath, too many voices buzzing around him - Wash won't pat him on the back when he does something _ right _ \- a hand on his back just as he thinks that.

"Tucker! - found Wash!" Grif's voice cuts through the static. He glances over his shoulder- it's Caboose beside him, hand on his back like it can help.

Grif is standing on the cliff as Sarge's head pops over the edge of what must be some kind of incline. Then Lopez's, then- between them, Wash, looking banged up but _ alive _. There's no blood, just a hole in his right hand top armor.

Verne growls and stumbles to his feet, still too short of breath, but he doesn't _ care _ , he's going to beat that idiot to within an inch of his _ life _. He tears off across the field, and both Sarge and Lopez jump out of the way as he tackles Wash and punches him right in the mouth. With his mouth.

Someone whistles, and he's pretty sure Caboose is crying tears of joy, but what the fuck ever. He doesn't give a shit. Fuck them. "Fuck you," he says when they part. Wash's hand is on the back of his neck, Verne has no idea where his helmet even is, and the other man is giving him that smile again, the one that gives Verne permission to breathe.

"Sorry I worried you," Wash replies, like Verne had even mentioned it. He resists when Verne tries to pull back, and instead pulls him closer to press their foreheads together. "Good job on the battle."

"Shut up, I'm pissed off at you," Verne shoots back, but he doesn't try to pull back again, and his voice doesn't muster up the anger he was going for. Mostly, he's just relieved. "I don't love you. I'm not gay."

Wash keeps smiling and closes his eyes. "I know. Me neither."

His stomach flip flops and Verne tells it to fuck off, then kisses Wash again. He doesn't love Wash, and he's not gay, but he needs him. To breathe, to live.

"I think we should have a spring wedding!" Donut says.

"Can I be the flower girl?" Caboose asks.

Verne tunes them out, because Church was absolutely right, they're all _ idiots _.


End file.
